Counterfeit

Ch. 9: Philosophy Lunch

By: Mooncrossed

Hope everyone had a wonderful Easter! Many thanks go out to RedtailHawk19 (thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying the story), to writergurl61 (Yup, Bulkhead is scarily adorable, Prowl's logic is a force to be reckoned with, and Swindle is still clueless), and to Noella50881 (Don't worry about Cass. Sooner or later, she's going to snap, then everyone is going to think she's nuts. Grin). I don't own Transformers, Guys and Dolls, Dracula, Spoon River Anthology, Harvey, The Mummy, Ghostbusters, Young Frankenstein, Beetle Juice, Shakespeare, or any of Murphy's Laws. This chapter is dedicated to God, because he really inspired me to get it written despite numerous obstacles.

Currently, at Detroit High-School...

Deep purple eyes, dark enough to appear black, darted around restlessly behind stylish sunglasses. Swindle frowned. Before him, humans of every shape and description bustled about. Bleached blond cheerleader wannabe's chattered and skipped eagerly after the high-school sports stars. Small timid nerds darted fearfully past the sadistically beautiful Popular crowd. Off in the distance, techno-jocks in metallic clothes practiced their best break-dancing moves and goofed around with their computer up-links, while their opposites, the Jive crowd, lounged around in nineteen-twenties splendor. All the while, gloomy goth kids lounged in the shadows and mocked all and sundry. If only they didn't all look so much alike, Swindle silently groused, his pixilated eyes briefly flaring violet with annoyance. It's like trying to distinguish one Insecticon from another in a hive!

A grimace crossed his features. Feeling the beginning twinge of a processor-ache, he attempted to find Cassidy. Humans tended to form into micro-herds. In theory, this sort of behavior would insure that they were easier to keep track of. Right? As Swindle tried and failed to sort out a small clump of organic spawn, they drifted into another herd, blended with it, and vanished. Gritting his holoform's teeth, the huckster valiantly tried and failed to categorize them.

Giving up, the 'Con-mech leaned against the wall of the high-school library building with a put upon sigh. Imagine his surprise when he'd discovered Cassidy's little micro-herd wasn't in their usual spot! They also weren't on the football field, the cafeteria, the science wing, and the list went on. Swindle frowned moodily. If only I could perform a proper scan, he reflected. I've got her DNA signature on file! Finding her would be as simple as Pi! Turning his head, he scowled down at a certain unassuming little two-wheeler motorcycle parked on a nearby curb. Of course, there was a very good reason why he couldn't do thing's the easy way: Prowl!

Grumbling to himself in Caxtonian over the inconvenience of contending with a guardian who had a penchant for throwing stars, he focused back on the Human herds. She has to be around here, somewhere, Swindle mused in testy annoyance. I mean, how rude can a fleshling get! Here I am, willing to go to all this effort to hire that scrawny little life-form, and she vanishes on me! Then there's the inventory I was forced to leave behind in her care. If there's so much as one blemish on either one of them... Glumly, he reflected on the original reason why he'd not tossed Rover back into his subspace the instant he'd seen it. Positive reinforcement. Grrbreazzzzrg were a pack species by nature. Anything the pack leader did was immediately imitated, anything ordered was automatically carried out, and they were cute while they did it! He'd hoped Cassidy would catch a clue and realize that if she was a good little organic, then she'd get just as many privileges. Unfortunately, she wasn't that bright. There was one key difference in behavior, though. The femme began to grow more mellow. Oh, sure, she was still just as screechy and escape prone... but the clawing was a little less frequent. He could live with a little extra green drool in his interior if his seat cushions got to remain intact a while longer.

"Hey, Chester," a voice suddenly greeted, making him spin around in surprise. To his disappointment, it wasn't Cassidy and company. Lounging comfortably on the planter wall was a handful of organics wearing zoot-suits, flapper dresses, and peddle-shorts. Ruby red lips curved into a smile as Laney gave him a friendly wave. "It's been a while," she continued. "How are you doing?"

"Yeash," Ted mumbled under his breath to a fellow Jive-artist. "Is it just me, or did that suit get even brighter?" The others nodded.

"Uh, huh, adjusting," Swindle repeated, lowering his holographic sunglasses. He'd been eying the tall organic in the back of the small micro-herd of Humans, or more specifically, his outer-coverings. It was the same design of zoot-suit he'd taken out of the online advertizement, right down to the dull, almost gray tone of muted orange it had presented. Then he looked at his own electric orange coat. Well, he mused ruefully. Obviously, this organic has managed to entice a mate to his side, or else he wouldn't be wearing such a dull color. So it's not the suit that must be the problem... It's Cassidy! Laney's words abruptly registered on his processor and he gave her his full undivided attention. "Wait, what did you say?"

"Th-this is your first time in public school," Laney stuttered, at an abrupt loss as to why he was suddenly so intense. "Right?" At his uncharacteristic frown, she hastened to reassure him. "Oh, it's okay to be home-schooled! That sort of thing happens to a lot of people and it's nothing to be ashamed of!"

Relaxing as his HUD provided the definition for 'home-schooled,' he offered a condescending smile. Hmmm, well I suppose that's one way to put 'Assembly Line Programming' downloads,' he mused. Closing off the file he'd opened on witnesses, specifically, the section on how to remove organics quickly and permanently from a populated area without anyone noticing, he opened up a new file: information gathering. Any gossip could be useful toward maintaining a false identity. Turning on the charm, Swindle inquired, "Is it that obvious? I thought I was blending in pretty well."

"Alright, I found yah," a nasal sounding voice suddenly exclaimed making him jump. Seconds later, a pale freckled hand clapped Swindle's shoulder. Weasel grinned down at him jovially. "Hey, Chet! You would not believe how difficult it is to find you around here!"

Staring at blinding neon orange material, Ted wondered, "How could yah miss him?" This statement, like so many others, earned him another death glare from his girlfriend. His nose wrinkling in disgust, he studied the new interloper to their group with a sense of distaste. Whether by hearsay or scent, everyone knew about The Weasel.

"Hello Weasel," Laney began as pleasantly as she was capable of while holding her nose. Was it her imagination, or did he smell worse than the last time she'd seen him? "It's... ugh," her eyes began watering. "Been a while. How are you?"

"Huh?" Oblivious to his effect on others, he favored the cringing teenager with a manic smile. "Oh, hey, Laney! Sorry to visit and run, but I'm kinda on a time crunch here... Chester, yah coming?" With that, the scrawny blond grabbed the zoot-suiter's shoulder and was moving. Just in time, too! Mere seconds after he ducked around the science wing, Morty and half the football team tromped into view. They were dangerous, sadistic, and thankfully extremely punctual, always showing up by twelve O 'seven on the dot. As long as he was out of sight, they wouldn't bother him. Stopping up short, he cautiously peered around the corner of the building.

"Walcott," Swindle began in vaguely exasperated tones. He easily pulled free of the blond's grip and frowned at the solid layer of skin flakes that coated his avatar's elbow. Ugh, disgusting! With a frown, he did his best to wipe it off. Staring down at the organic currently behaving like a hunted petro-rabbit, he inquired, "What the frag are you doing?"

"Jeaz," the blond whispered as he twisted around and gave the huckster a glower. Well, his version of one. It looked more like he was staring up at an insanely bright light. Then again, Swindle's zoot-suit did have enough of a radioactive glow to qualify as a small sun. So, perhaps he was justified. "How many time's do I have to tell yah? The name's Weasel! Only my parents call me 'Walcott!"

"Fine, Weasel," Swindle drawled, rolling pixilated eyes toward the sky. "Yet again, I find myself asking, what are you doing?"

"Shhh," the blond exclaimed, waving frantically for silence. Three Senior students, the top echelon of the Popular crowd, were holding court just around the corner. With picturesque shade trees, a planter that was ideal for lounging on, and next to no visibility from the campus guard's offices, it was an ideal spot for the bullying crowd. It was also right next to the locker system. Since most of them had rich and influential parents to bail them out of trouble, they got off Scott free for every instance of bullying they committed. He was only thankful that the entire group hadn't gathered yet. Tensely, he waited until just the right moment, when Kass was just glancing away, Jett had his back turned, and Trixie was looking at her watch, then he was moving!

"Wha... Do you mind?!" Much to his embarrassment, Swindle found himself getting dragged behind the sneak thief by the back of his coat lapel. How embarrassing! Unfortunately, it was at exactly the right angle to make it nearly impossible for him to reach back and clobber him into paste! Besides, there was the very real fact that this organic was quite possibly the only creature on the face of the planet that could help him locate his quarry. It was still humiliating, though.

Note to self, he grimly reflected as he practically lifted off the ground like a kite when Weasel picked up speed. Next time, increase the magnetic pull of my avatar so it isn't quite as light weight. The sneak-thief didn't seem to notice as he ran from one hiding place to the next. All the while, the blond constantly studied his surroundings, nervously peering around every corner. He found himself getting dragged over planters, through bushes, around trashcans, and behind picnic benches. It was while they were hiding for the tenth fragging time, that the huckster had had enough. "Weasel," he growled, at last pulling free. "If you don't tell me what you're doing, right now, I'll..."

"Dude, ixnay," the blond hissed back. "Just wait a minute..." Oblivious to their presence, the biggest bullying group on campus, the girl's basketball team, were walking past them. With lovesick eyes, he watched the Captain of the team walk out of sight. Tawnie was so beautiful. Too bad the most interaction he ever had with her was when she was giving him a swirly in the girl's restroom. He knew she didn't really mean it, though. She was just giving in to peer pressure. Once the danger had passed, Weasel's shoulder's sagged in relief. Then he turned his head. "Okay, here's the situation," Weasel explained in a normal tone of voice. "The Populars decided to expand their territory, and unfortunately we got crowded out. But no worries! Griff found a new spot, which is where we're headed. Capiche? Now, come on!"

One pixilated eyebrow on the rise, Swindle followed. It took seven more twisting turns, one of them around the overflowing trash-cans next to the digital public announcement board, but they finally made it! An abandoned grassy field was laid out before them. Park benches and overarching shade trees provided a nice contrast next to the constant rush of traffic on the nearby street. The only other structure around was an unfamiliar utilitarian building surrounded by dying rose bushes and a low wall. And huddled together beneath the scraggly remains of a skeletal oak tree, was the very herd he'd been searching for!

Finally, he reflected with a sense of relief. Now I can get Cassidy and get the frag out of here! Ignoring Weasel, he marched forward only to almost topple over. He blinked at his holographic loafers, at first stunned, then disgusted. His feet had sunk down into a a mud-hole two and a half feet deep. Naturally, with my luck this isn't easily recognizable unless one is actively looking for it, Swindle mused with an unhappy frown. Talk about the perfect trap! Unbelievable. Under normal circumstances, he'd simply climb out, drop his force-fields, and slough the filth off of his holoform. Of course, under normal circumstances, he wasn't hiding five-thousand credits worth of organic capture equipment.

"It's only a little further," Weasel explained over his shoulder. He'd been skirting around the deceptively solid looking plot of land purely by force of habit. At the sudden squelch of mud, Weasel twisted around with an expression of dismay on his freckled features. "Yeash, I thought everybody knew about that mud-hole. The sprinkler head busted last year and it's been a swamp ever since. I even heard some kid died out here..."

"Fascinating, Weasel," Swindle groused as he did his level best to reach dry land without decorating the rest of his avatar. With sullen, trudging steps, he shlogged his way up onto solid land. Great, he groused to himself as he shook a muddy foot. Just great! First, I waste precious time trying to find that annoying femme, then I get the motherboard of all runarounds from my so called tour-guide, and now this! Unhappily, he looked down at his holoform's mud smeared legs. From roughly the knees down, he was covered with a wide array of substances, including decaying vegetation, decomposing organic remains, microscopic living organisms, insect larva, water saturated dirt, and the list went on. He shuddered.

"Yo, Chet," Weasel called from some distance ahead. Sending a worried glance at him, he inquired, "Aren't yah coming?"

"Yes, Weasel," Swindle replied, doing his level best to not sound like he wanted to stomp the organic flat. Apparently, it worked because Weasel offered a carefree smile in return. Deciding against pulling each device out of his holoform and then dropping the shields, a process that would waste entirely too much time, he resolved to let the gunk remain. Once it was dry, it would be relatively harmless. Right now, though... He scowled at the mess coating his holographic legs. It had the exact right consistency and viscous qualities to clog up his most sensitive equipment.

Doing his best to contain his ire, he made it past the mud pit only to pause as he registered their new surroundings. Why, what an ideal nesting sight, he reflected in surprised approval. Gradually turning his head, he considered this new location with a growing smile. Complete with thick vegetation, over-arching shade trees, and organic seating areas! Taking one step forward, he frowned as another loud squelching noise assaulted his sensors. Swindle sighed as he looked down. Sure enough, he'd stepped in the fragging mud pit again! If only I could perform a simple topographic scan. It would take less than a click and then I could simply skirt around the whole slagging mess! Unfortunately, with that cyber-ninja breathing down my neck cables... Hey, wait a click! He paused in his negative thinking just as he was clawing his way back onto solid ground. Tilting his head, he noticed that the plant growth over the mud was much longer and slightly darker. Lifting his gaze, he studied how far this darker area extended and frowned. Suddenly, it became more than obvious why the fleshlings were avoiding this area. The mud pit was exactly thirty feet long at the widest, and by his estimation was at least as deep at the center. Easily large enough to swallow a Cybertronian whole, let alone a fleshy! His thoughts took a drastic turn toward the negative as he trudged toward his destination. What the frag is that leader of theirs thinking?! This place is a death-trap!

Compared to other buildings Swindle had encountered, the only structure in the area was large (by organic standards), boxy, and unimaginatively plain. Only a minimum of decorations adorned the roof-line... In fact, a very familiar gargoyle motif decorated one corner. He paused to analyze the statue. A quick reference to his sight map for a confirmation made him slump. Terrific, he sarcastically mused. Thanks to this organic's infuriating tendency to meander, I just spent the greater portion of the lunch period traveling a distance I could walk in my alt-mode in fifteen seconds. "Weasel," he growled. "Why didn't you just say everyone had moved to the other side of the theater?"

"What?" Pale blue eyes blinked back in puzzled surprise, before the blond became somewhat sheepish. "Oh, I guess I could have, huh? Never thought about it that way..." He paused, thinking about this new concept of the ages before shrugging and offering a cheerful smile. "Anyways, we're here now!"

"Hi, Weaz," Iris murmured without bothering to look up from her book. The goth was sprawled out underneath the oak tree, her dark purple Victorian gown arranged with casual decadence around her ankles. Her meal, a taco salad, rested on a nearby checkered napkin. Casually reaching into the nearby container, she selected a chip, doused it with a healthy mixture of mysterious green goop, and proceeded to consume it.

'Guacamole,' Swindle's HUD helpfully informed him. 'An organic fuel supplement made from avocados...' Rolling his holographic eyes skyward, Swindle shut off his search engine. He didn't need to know that much about the squishy's dining habits. Frankly, the green gooey stuff looked like a fungus he'd had the misfortune of cleaning out of some old mining equipment once. A scowl crossed his features. His visual acuity (which was thousands of times sharper than a Humans), was showing him exactly what she was eating on a microscopic level. Specifically, single-celled organisms squirming on every bite. Yuck! Shuddering, he focused on a different fleshling.

The others had chosen not to risk themselves with any possible mud stains and instead perched in various stages of laziness upon the planter wall. Nods of greeting met his gaze from each organic... except one. Sitting on the furthest corner of the planter wall, with an impenetrable wall of newspaper hiding most of her body from view, she was obviously not in a talkative mood. In fact, he couldn't even tell if it was her! Oh, he could perform a scan... A sidelong glance revealed a suspiciously innocuous motorcycle that was parked on the nearby curb just within sight. As he said, he could have performed a scan, if he didn't mind getting the slag beaten out of him by a circuit-su martial arts master! It looked like he'd have to identify her the hard way.

"Cassidy," he greeted pleasantly. Aside from a slight rustle from the oversized newspaper the organic was hiding behind, there was no answer. "What are the odds of finding you here?" The paper rustled again, this time to present an insulting gesture for his perusal. Well, that answers any remaining doubts over whether or not I've found the right Human, Swindle reflected with a rueful sneer. Time to up the ante.

Re-reading the Want-Ads for the third time in a row, Cassidy sighed. Her dream job hadn't magically appeared like she'd hoped it would. There weren't even any fast-food places hiring! Glumly reaching down for her ham sandwich, she paused as the paper rustled. Brown eyes narrowed. Again, her reading material twitched. Then, in one long cataclysmic wave with headlines bleeding into nonsensical creases, the newspaper sagged down the center under the unrelenting force of a dusky masculine hand. This was followed by Chester's grinning face abruptly arriving inches in front of her like a jack-in-the-box. Raising one unamused eyebrow, the brunet resisted the urge to punch him. She took a bite of her sandwich and gave him a warning glare.

"There you are," Swindle declared winningly. "I thought those shoes looked familiar. Now, as I was saying..." He paused, and an expression of disgust flashed across his face. "Ewww! What in the known universe are you eating?!"

With an invitation like that, how could she resist? Opening her mouth, she showcased half-chewed ham and cheese on rye. An expression of bewildered disgust overcame his dusky features. Closing her mouth, Cassidy favored him with a grimy smile. Chester looked decidedly green around the gills by this point. Before he could retaliate, she reached up and gently placed two fingers in his forehead. Then she forcibly shoved him away. Letting out a surprised yelp, he lost his balance and toppled off of the wall. The resulting thud was more than satisfying. Confident she'd made her point, the brunet twisted around and placed her feet firmly on the wall where he'd been sitting. 'Okay,' she reflected, taking another bite of sandwich. 'So the job-hunt is a bust... What about the housing front?' She had given some thought to Ratchet's warning's about more giant robots trying to abduct her, but it didn't hurt to keep her prospects open. Gradually, a disquieting feeling began to encroach, like she wasn't alone. That was when a voice whispered into her ear.

"Classified Ads... interesting," Swindle breathed, hovering next to her shoulder. It hadn't actually occurred to him that his target might be interested in a job. That could be very useful. He'd been fully prepared to continue when the organic rudely interrupted him.

"Gaah," Cassidy shrieked in surprise as she rolled off the wall into an automatic fighting stance... Well, she would have if the planter hadn't gotten in the way. A loud crunch filled the air making everyone wince. Conversations ceased as every head turned in her direction. Red faced, the brunet did her best to untangle herself from the bramble bushes that had broken her fall. "Look," she growled. "For your information...Ugh! I'm an actress. Oof! Unfortunately... Ouch! We happen to share a theater class. That's it! So, unless you have some grand revelation concerning ACTING, I'm not interested!" Abruptly, she fell free, only to have her shoes catch on the edge of the planter wall. The muddy ground rose up to meet her like a long lost friend and she flinched, anticipating a concussion. Instead, a pair of wiry arms caught her around the waist. Brown eyes popped open to behold Chester's grinning features.

"But sweetheart," Swindle intoned, gently setting her on her feet. "That's where you're wrong! I share every class with you, and therefore, have something to say about all of them!"

"Don't remind me," Cassidy groaned, sounding like a martyr. Conversation had started up again... about her! Her blush deepened to crimson as she wondered, 'Could my day get any worse?'

"For instance," Swindle continued. "I happen to know about a job position that pays well and offers free room and board, besides!"

"Spare me," the teenager growled, while rolling her eyes. Gathering up her now somewhat torn and muddy newspaper, she held it in front of herself like a shield. She had no interest in listening to a sales pitch on all the joys and benefits of joining a brothel! Pervert. Her nose wrinkled as she glanced at his filthy state. "What happened to you? Yah look like yah picked a fight with a swamp monster... And lost."

"Hah, hah," Swindle sneered, squelching over to a nearby water faucet. The mud was beginning to dry, killing off microscopic organisms one by one and giving him an over-all itchy feeling. He shuddered. And another personal note, he silently reflected. Lower the touch sensitivity levels on my avatar's programming. Twisting the knob, he watched water sluice over the surface of his force-field, washing the dust away with it...mostly. Muddy streams of semi-clear water remained behind with weakly squirming micro-organisms clinging to his magnetized holoform. Turning his head, he eyed a certain curly haired brunet with a sly calculating glance. I just have one last item to retrieve... A pale freckled hand unexpectedly clapped him on the shoulder, startling him.

"Dang, Chester," Weasel exclaimed. He stared wide eyed at the zoot-suiter's pants cuff. "What in the world is that material made of?!" Glinting and glistening wherever the water hit, the cloth shimmered as water slid off of it in a steady stream. Before the zoot-suiter could answer, the blond continued. "Yah know, most people can't handle that much synthetic fiber up against their skin. How can yah stand it?"

"Some people happen to like that kind of material," Swindle dryly replied, recovering from almost getting found out. He'd forgotten how obvious a magnetic barrier became when liquid was introduced to it's surface. If he kept his shields in place and shut off the holographic portion of his avatar, he'd glimmer and shine like a piece of clear glass. A quick glance around reassured him that none of the other organics seemed to be looking in his direction. Quickly shutting off the water, he briefly increased the energy output of his magnetic shields to evaporate the liquid before moving to join the small herd. There was no way he was making that mistake again.

"You sir, are a glutton for punishment," Weasel laughed, slapping the zoot-suiter on the back once more. Then the blond was running. "Now out of my way! I only have five minutes and fifteen seconds to eat before the bell!" Shoving his way between Cassidy and Griff, he plopped down, and then began searching through his pockets.

"We didn't think you were going to make it," Griff commented. Brushing aside his dreadlocks, he gave Swindle an enigmatic smile. Then he went back to his cell phone.

"Yeah, yeah," Weasel snorted. "Just remember, I won the bet! I said I'd get him out here in one piece, and I did it!" Abruptly, his pale blue eyes lit up as he found what he'd been looking for. Pulling a half smooshed peanut-butter and jelly sandwich out of his back jeans pocket, he began eating.

None of the organics appear to be paying attention to me, Swindle reflected in surprise. Iris continued to lay on the ground, lost in a Gothic romance of ages past, Griff was fiddling around with his cell-phone while trying to eat, Cassidy was still lost in newsprint, and Weasel was still talking... with his mouth full of half digested organic fuel. 'Substance identified,' his HUD was pleasantly informing him. 'Wheat, a common Human fuel source, is molded into a compound known as bread through a process involving the brief interaction of a type of fungus known as Saccharomyces cerivisiae, commonly called yeast...' He hastily shut down his search engine before it could provide any more gory details. It was bad enough that he was being given a front row seat, again, to the beginning stages of organic digestion! "So, Cassidy," he began in casual tones, commanding her attention by brightening his suit until it nearly glowed. As he'd hoped, she was instantly mesmerized. Now to go in for the kill! Smiling charmingly, he adjusted his shades. "I was wondering if you'd like to..."

"Eww," Harriet moaned theatrically, interrupting him. She lifted the toe of her hopelessly stained white boot out of the mud puddle she'd had the misfortune of stepping in. Taking a tissue out of her knapsack, she walked over to the nearby water pipe, got it wet, and proceeded to vigorously polish her soiled footwear. "Griffin! I told you this was a terrible location to have lunch!" Disdainfully, she looked around until she spotted a rather suspicious looking open newspaper. The pair of legs sticking out clad entirely in torn denim was another clue, and the fact that Chester was hovering around her was the last. Marching smartly up to the seventeen year old, she held out a pale, nail polished hand and requested, "Cassidy, cardigan? Now!" Ignoring the annoyed glare she was getting from the zoot-suiter, she waited impatiently for a garment that was too slow to appear. Rustling was heard from the papery depths. Then, it arrived... with chalk dust on it! "Ugh, Cass, it's dirty!"

"Be thankful it's not ink," Cassidy mumbled, still lost in fine print. Somewhere in here was a job, or an apartment, or something! Ignoring Harriet's put upon snort, and Chester's annoyed grousing at being interrupted, she turned the page.

"Quit complaining," Griff muttered, not bothering to look up from his cell phone. "I've already got a few leads out. We'll be out of here in no time."

"I don't know, man," Weasel began, glancing around nervously. "Didn't some kid die out here, or something? At least... that's what I heard."

"Anyway," Swindle smoothly began, doing his level best to build up the momentum he'd lost when Harriet had so rudely interrupted. "As I was saying, I've got a little free time on my hands, and I was wondering if..." He trailed off as Griff continued talking.

"This is only temporary until I've had the chance to scout around," the techno-jock patiently explained, munching on his sandwich. Truthfully speaking, it was somewhat embarrassing to be forced off of their long established turf. It didn't matter if the ones who had done it were the most powerful clique in the school, it was still galling! Uncomfortably, Weasel shifted to a less damp location on the wall. Punctuating the silence was the drip-drip-drip of the perpetually leaky sprinkler. Nearby, a raven defiantly cawed for attention. The lack of their fellow Human-beings was noticeable... as was the gigantic swamp of a mud puddle. Well aware of the spooky quality of their location, he sighed. "Just give it time..."

"...Was wondering if," Swindle repeated, feeling exasperated. His avatar's programing registered his growing frustration and began causing his face to heat up in a fierce blush. It was infuriating to be ignored like this! Throughout it all, shrouded in an oasis of newspaper and silence, Cassidy continued to read on.

Harriet scowled at Griff even as she put her cardigan back in her backpack. Chalk dust was terribly difficult to remove from angora. If she couldn't shake it out, she'd have to take it to the dry-cleaners. The mud stain on her pristine white boot just added insult to injury. Both he and Cass had to pay, but how? Her expression became thoughtful. Turning toward the lounging goth, she assumed a deliberately fake sounding British accent as she inquired, "Lady Iris, wouldst thou enjoy a stroll about the garden?"

"Stop it," Griff interrupted, beginning to blush. "Nobody talks that way anymore."

"Certainly Miss Harriet," Iris politely purred, a sly smile drifting across her dusky features. "But only if it takes a nonce..." She loved getting other people riled up. Her twin brother Griff, with his private lifestyle and cool demeanor, was particularly difficult. Until she'd overheard Weasel and Cassidy doing poor imitations of the British accents from 'My Fair Lady' and Griff's loud protests, she hadn't even know it irritated him.

"Ugh, I can feel my popularity level drifting down even further," Griff groaned before favoring the track runner with a glare. "Quit talking like that, or if yah have to, at least do it right. It's embarrassing."

"Oh, but Lady Iris," Harriet continued, a distressed expression overtaking her features. "With how treacherous the terrain is... It could take longer than a nonce!"

Looking up from his hand-held video game, Weasel abruptly wondered, "How long is a nonce, anyway?"

"You're the one with the cell-phone," Cassidy replied, not bothering to look away from her newspaper. Ignoring the other conversations going on around them, she advised the sneak-thief, "Just log onto some encyclopedia, or something..."

Developing just as concerned an expression, the goth girl wondered, "You mean it could take a nonce and a half?" A groan sounded from her twin brother at the words, making her smile.

"At least," Harriet replied, nodding earnestly. Still talking in assumed accents, the two of them strolled away while carefully avoiding the much hated mud pit.

"Nobody talks like that anymore," Griff declared, well aware that people were beginning to stare at them. "Stop it!" Laughter met his statement. Subsiding into a grumble, the older teenager concentrated on his lunch. The techno-rapper was the unofficial leader of the group for a number of reasons, not least of which was his ability to kick all their butts at martial arts. Of course, Harriet was of the opinion that he had that status because he was the only one who had managed to hold onto his sanity... But, eh, semantics. A leader was a leader.

"Isn't the theater available?" Dead silence met Cassidy's question and she glanced up from her newspaper. Optimus Prime had managed to make the front headlines for the third day in a row. Hooray! Rolling her eyes at the grandiose picture, she turned the page. "I mean," she continued, "It's dry..."

"True, but eating in there is like admitting defeat," Weasel insisted. "Only the lowest of the low hang out in the theater building during lunch. You're an automatic social pariah if you so much as walk in the foyer! Everyone knows that!"

"Like I said, I'm working on it," Griff growled, aiming a death glare around the small crowd. Nothing but the sound of chewing met his statement as silence yet again filled the grove. Taking a defiant bite of peperoni pizza, he also began chewing. Slowly, normal conversations resumed.

'Peperoni,' Swindle's HUD helpfully informed him. 'A kind of heavily spiced salami usually made from pork or beef...' This explanation was swiftly followed by images taken directly from a meat processing plant. He ruthlessly shut it down.

"We're here," Harriet trilled as she strolled back up to the group, still firmly ensconced in a British accent. She smiled at Griff's annoyed grumbling. "Why, look at the lovely picnic! Dear Griffen, you have truly outdone yourself... Slipping back into an American accent, she pointedly informed the techno-rapper, "And I'll continue talking like that as long as we're forced to dine here." Her threat delivered, the track-runner calmly resumed her seat upon the wall and began touching up her lipstick.

Sitting back, the huckster took a moment to re-order his thoughts and review a thoroughly clogged memory core. So many conflicting communications were making his head spin. As he more closely considered the accumulated data, slowly parceling out one voice at a time, he came to a gradual realization. Aside from the occasional comment, no-one was listening to each other. In fact... He took another solid look at the data. People didn't really seem to care! The Decepticon slowly shook his head, feeling amusement gradually overcome his frustration. At random moments, one of them would pause in their own selfish subject and make a comment on another organic's words, then ignore the answer. All of this was a somewhat alien form of non-communication by his kind's standards.

Cybertronians rarely talked, at least, not out loud. There was a ton of com-chatter, but only one at a time and only to specific targets. It was considered exceptionally rude to overlap another person's communique, but amongst this organic species, no-one seemed to care. They were like a flock of birds. All chatter, no content. If this was a group of his own kind, everyone would be offended by now! Gradually, Swindle became aware of something unexpectedly new: silence. He looked around. The abrupt lack of noise was unnerving to say the least. Had something happened? Some horrible upset that he'd missed? Carefully, he examined each organic's features and came to realize that the one thing the entire micro-herd seemed to be doing... was staring at Cassidy. Blinking in consternation, because really, he'd had no idea any of them were listening to one another, Swindle also turned to look. She sat absolutely still, a half chewed carrot-stick stuck between her teeth and a trapped look in her eyes. Only the drip-drip-drip of the broken sprinkler head filled the air. "Er," she began, swallowing hard. Suddenly loosing her appetite, she put it down. "Weaz, now's not really a good time to talk about that..."

"Come on, Cass," Weasel pleaded, his pale blue eyes shining. "Getting abducted by aliens is the coolest thing that's ever happened to anybody in the history of Detroit High, and I want to know what happened! Some of those rumors have got to be true, like the implants..."

"Weaz," Cassidy muttered, her blush intensifying as whispers started up. "Nothing was implanted..."

"Or the experimentation," the blond continued, warming up to his favorite subject.

"Hon," Cassidy cringed, recognizing the careful blank expression on Griff's face that meant he was analyzing her body language for telltale signs that she was lying. The equally shrewd looks coming off of Harriet and Iris, who were obviously searching for the same clues, made her want to sink into the ground and disappear. "There weren't really any experiments..."

"And the mother ship," the blond enthused growing misty eyed. "I mean, Jeaz! Everybody says yah got to go to another planet! Why can't I have that kind of luck. Well, the alien impregnation I can do without..."

"WEASEL," Cassidy snarled, grabbing him by the arm. Now as red as a cherry-tomato, she glared ferociously into his innocent blue eyes. Slowly, dreading what she'd see, she looked back at the others. Griff was looking down at his food and not eating it. Studying his body language, she decided he wasn't ashamed of her... just sympathetic. Harriet and Iris were also avoiding looking in her direction. Also a good sign. Reluctantly, she shifted her gaze to the one wild card in the group. Chester was new, untrustworthy, the bane to her high-school career... and he was currently doing his best impression of a landed fish.

"Woah, wait a minute, he's choking," Weasel exclaimed. Jumping to his feet and racing around the ever present mud hole, he slammed a palm into the zoot-suiter's back only to flinch back in surprise. Did his hand just go through Chester's body? He stared in consternation at his perfectly ordinary hand, trying to wrap his mind around the concept, before he shrugged it off in favor of more important matters. Worriedly, he resumed pounding the guy's back. "It's okay, Chet. Just let it all out..."

"I'm fine," Swindle wheezed, wiping away fake tears. And he thanked his lucky stars he had an internal search engine for looking up peculiar concepts like 'Choking.' It was the perfect excuse for hiding the fact that he'd almost lost control of his avatar at the mention of 'impregnation.' A scowl flickered over his holographic features. Over my offlined frame! Playing a sound recording he'd picked up off the Internet, he went through the motions of clearing blocked airways. "Just give me a click... Cough... I just need time!"

"Are you sure," Harriet inquired, raising one eyebrow. "The nurses station is just across the quad..."

"Here, Chet," Weasel worriedly muttered, thrusting a mini-carton of milk up under his nose. "It ain't water, but it should stop the coughing, at least." To their surprise, the zoot-suiter took one look, and froze. He stared wide eyed into the open container for a long moment. Then he did something nobody expected. Developing a somewhat ill expression, he clapped a hand to his mouth, leaped to his feet, and raced out of sight. Slowly, the blond lifted the container up and sniffed it. "Huh, it doesn't smell like it's gone bad... Think he's just got a more sensitive nose?"

"Maybe he's allergic," Griff suggested after a moment of thought. "I've heard of some people that are that badly affected..." The bell rang signaling a return to academic drudgery. As one, the teenagers stood up and began picking up their belongings. "...And would you guys quit talking like Mary Poppins?! Ugh! It's disturbing!" Laughter rose up around the group even as everyone left. Shaking his head, the techno-jock shouldered his backpack and donned his visor sunglasses.

"Um, guys," Weasel began, before looking worriedly toward where Chester had run off to. "Maybe we should check on him... I watch the surgery channel all the time and I do know CPR..."

"He's fine," Cassidy interrupted, shouldering past them. 'If he's really lactose intolerant, I'm sure he knows how to handle the problem on his own." Covered in vicious scratches and pinpricks, courtesy of an overly friendly bramble bush, the brunet couldn't help but feel a little vindictive as she reflected, 'Hopefully, he'll be so sick, he won't be able to attend fifth period...'

Ten minutes later...

"Alright, class, places please," their Theater Arts Teacher, Misty Tannon announced.

Slowly, the students filed up the narrow stage steps. Cassidy did her level best to ignore the zoot-suiter who was trailing along directly behind her. He hadn't gone home for the rest of the day like she'd hoped. Brutally quashing the faint twinge of guilt this thought inspired, she concentrated on climbing the stairs. 'Besides,' she justified to herself. 'The bastard deserves it! After all the pranks he's played...' She glanced back and gritted her teeth in rising annoyance. 'In fact, judging by that smile on his face, he already has another practical joke in mind! Does he have to be so close?!' A hard as rock patent leather loafer stepped on her one of her heals with painful intensity. Okay, she knew that was deliberate! Resisting the urge to reach back there and slap him, she trudged onward until the hardwood floor of the stage was under her feet. That was when an idea occurred to her. Settling down, she took off her backpack...yawned...and stretched... With calculating brown eyes, she waited until Chester was just beginning to sit down. Then she made her move. Suddenly grabbing her books, she performed a slide more commonly seen on the baseball field. In seconds, she was suddenly on the other side of the stage, far beyond his reach. So what if all of her fellow classmates were complaining about her abrupt lack of sanity. She was free of a very pesky prankster!

Misty rolled her eyes. She waited until all the teenagers were sitting on the dusty wood floor before continuing. "Now, as you know, the Autumn Theater Production is coming up. What you don't know is that Vice Principle Rowcliff has decided to bump up the production date three weeks early..." Groans sounded at this pronouncement. Determined, she rallied ahead before the complaints became any louder. "Which Means," she declared, projecting her voice until the naysayers drifted off into silence. "...that we need to work really hard at getting things ready. I still expect all of you to work on your Shakespeare projects for your mid-term grade, but we are also spending the first half of each class prepping for the big show." A pale, scrawny hand rose in the back of the group and Misty nodded.

"We haven't even picked out the play, yet," Miles complained, before sneezing explosively into a tissue. He hated this time of year. It seemed like every thing, from pine tree pollen to shower mold, was out to get him! Another allergic sneeze made him nearly jump out of his skin and he blew his nose. With watery misery, he stared up at the Drama teacher.

"Exactly what we're going to discuss," Ms. Tannon agreed, favoring him with a sympathetic smile. "So, how about it? We did 'High-Spirits' last year... A tale about unrequited love beyond the grave." Grins flashed amongst the burgeoning actors while the newbies looked on in puzzlement. "And I can see by some of you're expressions that you remember it. But, just because it's happening four days before Halloween doesn't mean we have to do something spooky."

"Oh," one of the cheerleader wannabees declared in rapturous tones. "I'd love it if we did something ultra-romantic! Like... 'Guy's and Dolls,' maybe?" This suggestion was met with snorts of laughter and glances toward Cass and the others. Swindle raised one holographic eyebrow. Frankly, he could care less about the subject matter. He was just biding his time until an opportune 'hiring' moment arrived.

"No way," Weasel exclaimed, sitting upright. "There is no way I'd cast my vote for 'Guys and Dolls!' My folks pester me enough, as it is!" Stifled giggles and jeering comments met his remarks, making him blush. Stubbornly pouting, the lanky blond crossed his arms.

"I've got to side with Weaz on this one," Cassidy seconded. "Don't get me wrong, the music is fantastic... I just don't think the attention it would bring would be all that beneficial to the school." Nods followed her statement.

"Aw, come on," Trinity, a very pretty red-head exclaimed while trying to contain her laughter. "You guys would be perfect in that play... And we've already got a guy wearing a zoot-suit!" She indicated Chester with a flourish.

"I'm a little lost," Swindle muttered to a nearby female organic. "Why is this play such a bad thing?" A quick Internet search had yielded information on a musical about a bunch of small time gangsters, gamblers and hoods who were trying to out-swindle each other and got married instead. Sure, it was a little corny, but it was alright beyond that.

Always eager for gossip, the younger Freshman whispered, "Damon Runion, the one who wrote the original story? You do know he based it off of real people that he knew, right?" Quirking an eyebrow, the huckster nodded. Yes, that particular section of writing had been emphasized quite clearly in the online article. "And you do know," she continued. "That since those characters got married, they were bound to have children? Then those children would have children, and so on, and so forth?" At his continuing expression of puzzlement, she gave a significant glance toward Weasel.

"Yah so owe me for this," Weasel groused, finally losing the argument with the others. He climbed to his feet. Taking a moment to prepare, he paused. Then his demeanor changed. With shifty eyed innocence, he regarded everyone in the room with fidgeting hands and a nervous smile as he simpered, "Nicely-Nicely, thank you! At your service!" Laughter and a smattering of applause met his statement. Allowing the persona to drift away, he glared at the ensuing laughter before adding. "And his name was actually Nicely-Nicely Weisel. Thank God, Runyon changed the last name, or I'd never live it down!"

"So, wait," a Senior dressed in a reflective synthetic techno-rapper outfit interrupted. "Yah mean, you're a however many generations descendant of..." Miles trailed off as he favored the class with wide eyed amazement. "How many of you guys are related to those characters?" Glumly Cassidy, Weasel, Griff, Iris, and a few others raised their hands.

"It's fun to tease them about it," Misty commented with a smile. "Okay, no 'Guys and Dolls." How about... 'Dracula,' or 'Spoon River Anthology?" This steered the debate away from any notorious ancestral exploits and back to more important topics. 'Dracula' had been done to death. Half the schools in America were bound to be doing some version of it. Likewise, 'Spoon River,' a play about a bunch of ghosts lamenting the mistakes they'd made while they were alive, was considered too depressing. Other suggestions, such as 'Harvey' (too Easter-ish), and 'The Mummy' (also, done to death), were discussed. At last, it came down to three possible suggestions. An adapted play production of 'Ghostbusters,' 'Young Frankenstein,' or 'Beetle Juice,' were the final choices. Since the vote was fairly even for all three, Ms. Tannon declared that she'd carefully weigh each suggestion and inform them over the final decision tomorrow. "Why don't all of you spread out," she concluded. "The debate lasted so long that we don't have time for a warm-up. Just find someplace relatively private and practice your lines until the class is over!"

Finally, Swindle mused, climbing to his holographic feet. I was getting so bored, I'd started watching Human infomercials for entertainment! Now, I'll just get Cass and... Where did she go? Surprised, he looked around the increasingly abandoned backstage area to find that the organic he was looking to acquire had vanished. "Oh, you have got to be fragging kidding me," the 'Con-mech muttered out loud. His processor already hard at work calculating where the Human might wander, he stalked away, all the while puzzling over how she managed to sneak past his sensory system so often.

Meanwhile...

Deeply enmeshed in Shakespearean lines, Cassidy wandered across the stage. "...But I know when thou hast stolen away," she recited to herself. Then she paused and her forehead wrinkled. "Hast stolen away," she repeated before trailing off into frustrated silence. Taking out her bundle of books, papers, and other miscellaneous school supplies, she yanked her script out into the open and studied it with a critical eye.

Fernley Chan, a rather shy Sophomore that was just starting her theater training, looked up from her own script as the brunet walked by. "And in the shape of Corin," she prompted innocently. At Cassidy's surprised glance, the cheerleader wannabe offered a lighthearted shrug. "That is the next line, right?"

"Er, yeah," Cass replied after a momentary glance at the script. She just really wished she'd had the chance to practice her lines at the base... rather than play an endless game of cat and mouse with a needle wielding alien doctor. Blushing in embarrassment, the brunet mumbled a thank you and hurried away before she could flub up any more lines.

"No problem," Fernley replied, going back to her own lines. She got to play Juliet with the cutest boy in class! Smiling happily, she gazed after her co-star with a dreamy look clouding her features. The dark haired Freshman sighed as she went back to reading her script.

"...And in the shape of Corin," Cassidy continued, only to pause again. Squinting her eyes closed as if she was enduring the mother of all headaches, she swayed for a moment. Then her eyes popped open and she smiled in relief. "That's it! 'And in the shape of Corin..." She was about to continue, but someone beat her to it.

"Sat all day playing on pipes of corn," a muscle-bound Senior interrupted. Robby offered the brunet a boyish grin. "Well, it is what you were going to say. Right?" At her wordless nod, he snorted out a laugh. "Heh, I can't believe how easy this class is," he continued. "I had such an effortless time memorizing my own lines, I decided to memorize all the other scripts, too!"

"Thanks, Rob," the brunet grumbled. Now blushing as fiercely as a tomato, she stalked to the other side of the stage. Glancing furtively around for any witnesses, and finding none, she at last relaxed. Then she focused once more on her script. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and recited, "Playing on pipes of corn... and versing love to... to..."

"Amorous Phillida," a voice called from up above, making her jump in alarm. Her heart pounding, the brunet glared up into the rafters. Weasel sat precariously balanced on the metal railing of the catwalk, smiling down at her. "I'm right, aren't I? Boy, I wish I got to do your play! Those lines are insanely easy to remember!"

"Believe me when I say this, Weaz," Cassidy called back. "I wish yah did, too! Now, could I have a little privacy?"

"Sure thing, Cass," the blond tossed back, already focused on his work. "Just let me fix this, and I'll be out of your hair." Narrow fingers, grimy with dust, twisted and fiddled with the wires of one of the overhead stage lights. 'That should do it,' he reflected with a satisfied smirk. Flicking a nearby manual switch, he waited. Nothing happened. Frowning, he slapped the fixture's oversized metal side. It flickered sporadically once, before fading out again. "What the...," the blond mumbled out loud. Scowling at the disobedient light, he then considered the device it was mounted to. Tilting his head, his pale blue eyes followed the wires attached to that as they went up along the ceiling, connected at the wall, and then traveled down until... There stood Cassidy, leaning against the ground cable. "Oh," he exclaimed. "No wonder! Hey, Cass! Could yah move away from the wall, please?"

"Huh?" Focused entirely on her lines, the brunet barely heard him and had to take a moment to blink the cobwebs out of her thoughts. Then she realized what he meant. "Oh, okay," she replied as she shuffled away, her brown eyes going back to the script in her hands. "This good?"

The stage lights abruptly flickered to life and stayed lit without any further prompting, making Weasel grin. Satisfied, the blond patted the now properly functioning fixture. "Yeah, Cass," he called as he casually walked away. "That did it, thanks!"

"No problem," Cassidy muttered, not really paying attention. She almost had that first part memorized, too, she just knew it! "Okay, Cass," she coached herself. "You can do this! Once more, from the top!" Taking a deep breath, and wishing she'd spent yesterday afternoon memorizing her lines (instead of being terrorized by Ratchet), she prepared herself. Slowly lifting her head, she opened her mouth...

"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," Swindle interrupted with a wide grin. He had been observing her from the shadows for quite some time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Now, there were no witnesses and he was determined to quit wasting time! The first step in his latest plan was winning her trust. Considering the glower she was aiming his way, he had a long way to go. A wary smile stretching across his holographic features, he protested, "Well, you did say to start from the top!"

"Argh, this is impossible," the brunet moaned. Slumping in despair, she stalked to the edge of the stage and sat down. Depressed, she gazed down past her sneakers into the shadowy orchestra pit. Shuffling her script around, she stared down at her lines. "All I wanted was to do my homework! But do those freaky robots even care?! And I don't even have my lines memorized, yet!"

Tilting his head, he watched the organic sitting there talking to herself about how awful her life was. What a golden opportunity! Schooling his features to appear as sympathetic as possible, he strolled across the stage and settled down next to her. Offering her a sincere smile, he declared, "Personally speaking, I think you're just trying too hard. If you focused on something else, the lines would come to you easily!" At her skeptical frown, he smiled with guileless innocence. The next moment, he struck!

"Hey," she squawked in surprise. "What the...?" Blinking, she watched the zoot-suiter dance up the theater aisle, a packet of papers in his hand. She stared at him in consternation. Looking down at her now empty lap, her features darkened in self-conscious realization. Cassidy was expecting a number of things from Chester when that sly, dishonest look had twinkled to life in his dark eyes, but stealing her script wasn't one of them! Hopping down into the orchestra pit, she chased after him, yelling, "Give that back, yah jerk!"

"Mmm," Swindle hummed, pretending to consider her demand. "No. Not until you say the lines!" He ducked out of reach at the last second just as she pounced. Everything is going perfectly according to plan, he enthused as he danced out of reach. Well, granted... This isn't exactly like activating her mating protocols, he amended as he gazed at her murderous expression. That means that all those joors pouring over those romance movies I downloaded off the Internet were a waste of my time! Dodging a flailing fist, he was, yet again, all smiles. Oh, well. As long as it works... All I have to do is lead her out of the building! With any luck, she'll be so incensed that she'd follow me straight to my alt-mode! She'd be easy to capture, then! Noticing she was beginning to lose interest in chasing him, he waved her script again. "Ill met by moonlight," he taunted. "Remember?"

"Chester, I'm warning you," Cassidy growled, her eyes glittering with malice. She had been considering abandoning the chase and asking Ms. Tannon for a replacement script. 'Is a simple bundle of papers worth all this aggravation?' As she glared up at her all too smugly grinning co-star, the brunet clenched her fists as she concluded, 'Yes, it is worth it. And now the bastard is climbing over chairs! Argh!' Completely without realizing it, words that she had been searching for all afternoon began filling the air. "What, jealous Oberon," Cass ground out, her eyes fixed on his smugly smiling face. "Fairies," snarl, "Skip hence..." Her hand missed the paper by inches before she suddenly paused. Blinking in stunned amazement, she stared at Chester in surprise. "I don't believe it," Cassidy muttered, momentarily forgetting her anger. "One of your stupid techniques really works?!"

"Excuse me," Swindle protested, straightening with indignant surprise. "Since when are my techniques stupid?" Pausing in his efforts to climb over a theater seat, he glared at the organic who had dared question him. At the skeptical look she favored him with, the Decepticon scowled. "You," he sputtered. "I'll have you know I've been working these scams for longer than you've been..." He trailed off, abruptly realizing that he was about to let the cyber-cat out of the bag over a 'hire-and-capture' ploy cleverly disguised as a memorization exercise. Swiftly, the 'Con-mech switched gears. "What I mean is," he smiled through gritted holographic teeth. "If it's stupid, but it works..."

"It's not stupid," Cassidy concluded with a defeated sigh. "Alright, we'll continue playing Keep-Away..." Then her forehead wrinkled as she gave him a puzzled frown. "Where did we leave off, again?"

"Actually, it's my turn," Swindle replied, still giving her an expression of wounded pride. "And since you think my methods are so childish, I'm keeping your script!" At her protesting shout and frantic dive for that most coveted of items, he easily ducked out of the way. For a few clicks, he'd been afraid that the moment was lost. Now, as he raced into the aisle with a seventeen year old hot on his pixilated heals, he wondered why he didn't think of this sooner! Noticing she was beginning to slow down as he reached the main doors of the theater, he called over his shoulder, "Tarry rash wanton?"

"I'll show yah 'rash,' yah bastard," Cassidy shouted, picking up speed. "By the time I'm through with you, they'll be sending in the ambulance!" She didn't notice the minor earthquake that shook the ground. Someone else, though, did.

Swindle abruptly stopped in his tracks and his avatar's eyes widened. A new sensation had just invaded his sensors, one that was very familiar. It was faint. Frowning, he analyzed, sorted, and identified that distant rumble as the percussion shock-wave of a particle-excelerator weapon going off. He didn't even notice when Cassidy practically collided with him and violently ripped the flimsy paper script out of his holographic hand. Nor did he particularly care that his latest hiring ploy was rapidly going up in smoke as she stalked away in a rage. The Decepticon was far too busy cross-referencing his own personal sight map, the organic news service drones, and the city grid in his efforts to avoid detection while finding out where the frag it was coming from! Please don't be anywhere nearby, the 'Con silently pleaded to a deity he didn't even believe in. I've got too many credits riding on this deal to let it go to the Pit in some stupid, outdated, glitched up... Slag! Holographic shoulders sagged as the answer presented itself on his HUD. An alarm began blaring over the organic PA system and teenagers all over the school looked up in surprise.

Barely thirty feet beyond Detroit High School's main entrance... was WAR.